Our Deepest Condolences
by Boz1310
Summary: It is late at night when Grell goes to complete the paperwork he has missed due to the deaths of his fellow coworkers. When he arrives however, he discovers William in a sorry state. The two of them mourn for their friends and talk about the future. ONESHOT- this is right after The Most Beautiful Death in the World. Not really slash, but there are occurrences within the story.


_**Our Deepest Condolences **_

_Words: 3,000_

_Warning: It is clear that I do not own Kuroshitsuji, because if I did, EricxAlan would be canon. Just saying. _

_AN: I wrote this in exam week and have posted it on this website in exam week. What am I doing with my life? You tell me, because I haven't the foggiest. Honestly, am I having my first midlife crisis? Je ne sais pas…_

_Without further ado, enjoy! _

Grell Sutcliff winced at the click-clacking of his high-heeled boots as he walked down the long and dark corridor that led him to his desired destination. When the night grew long, most of the Shinigami would leave for a couple of hours to rest before resuming their never-ending task of reaping the souls of mortals. This resulted in the dead silence of the building, creating an eerie resemblance to a mausoleum or an abandoned tomb. Hence, any sound, no matter how faint, would bounce off the stale hallway walls and echo down the spiraling staircases so that anyone remaining in the building would be aware of a presence, other than their own, lingering amidst the shadows. Which was why, Grell was sneaking, or attempting to sneak, to his office. It had been an emotionally draining week and he was unable to complete most of his paperwork. So, he decided it would be best to complete at least some of it in the late hours so he could hand in something to his manager the next day. Normally, he would walk past the growing piles of paper without so much as a look of concern. But today was different. After all, it had been emotionally draining for _everyone_ and while Grell was a self-proclaimed psychopath, he was no monster.

He tiptoed into his office and turned on the light. He stopped to admire it, feeling a sense of pride as he gazed over the red streamers, cushions and flowers he had arranged all around the room. They were Erica flowers. Alan Humphries had gotten him a pot when he began to work in the department.

"They're my favourite flowers, and they were bright red, so I thought you would like them," the junior Shinigami had told him and had placed it gently on the desk. He had fixed his glasses in anticipation. "It means 'loneliness' in the language of flowers."

At the time, Grell had been a little surprised with the latter half of the explanation, but he had deemed it as passing knowledge that someone like Humphries would deliver just as conversation buildup.

"They are absolutely gorgeous Alan, thank you." He had said, giving the flowers an overly-dramatic sniff before running to kiss the junior on the cheek. It was meant as a token of purely platonic affection, but Grell had noticed with amusement that Humphries's face had darkened into a deep shade of red. The boy had quickly stepped back; his head dipped slightly in a way that made his hair part, revealing the vermillion tinted ears that were a clear result of his embarrassment. Grell had fought the urge to squeal at the adorable sight before him.

"You're welcome Senior Sutcliff," Humphries had said with a smile that was positively heartwarming.

"Call me Miss Grell," he insisted, and immediately took a liking to his new coworker.

"Alright then, Miss Grell," Alan had said quietly, leaving the room in a hurry. After the door was closed, Grell turned to enjoy his gift.

"What a gentleman," Grell had said to himself. "Now there's a man who knows what a lady likes. I really should get William to take a few pointers from him…"

Since that day, the Erica flowers grew and grew until he needed to switch pots. Constantly, there would be large, red blossoms blooming all over the plant, adding magnificence and light to the usual boring office caused by an occupation as bleak as the one he had.

Snapping out of his reverie, he took a seat, adjusted the cushions to give ideal comfort and began to work on the papers before him. However, he could complete no more than five when he stopped and plopped on the floor in a heap of frustration and sorrow.

He knew that if anyone were to enjoy a bloodbath, it would be him. But he simply could not get over the fact that Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby were dead. When he learned of Alan's terminal illness, he felt a wave of pity for the boy wash over him, although he did not show it. While it was heartbreaking, he would have to grit his teeth and continue to work. After all, death waited for no one. However, when he discovered Eric's attempt at trying to save Alan, the Thousand Souls project of his, he had to pause and mourn for the two. There was also another feeling that was slowly creeping onto the surface-jealousy. While their deaths were tragic and hopelessly ironic, they were infinitely more romantic and passionate than what he could have ever dreamed of. Romeo and Juliet, with a twist, the star-crossed lovers, destined to die for each other because their passion had been too great. Grell secretly wished he could have experienced that amount of sheer irrationality caused by love with someone who equally devoted their entire soul and body to him. He did not want to die, but he realized he would accept the fate of death if he could have someone who cared enough about him to bathe the streets in blood. He knew it was a terrible thought, knowing that Eric had tried everything to cure Alan of his misery. Thus, the conflicting thoughts made him feel confused and guilty, and extremely unable to do any paperwork. He thought of his unrequited love for Sebastian Michaelis and realized that perhaps it was not love per se, but lust. Not that it was unreasonable lust; Sebastian was aesthetically pleasing to say the least. Maybe it would have made more sense to love someone who was capable of actually loving him back and respecting him for the individual he was. Grell decided it was time for him to find his "Eric" and perhaps that mission would not be _too _difficult.

He was contemplating the many faults and successes of his love life, when he heard the faint sound of a Chopin Waltz drifting down the empty, labyrinth of a building. _'Who could that be?'_ he thought, getting up. He followed the music until he reached the room from which it came from. He couldn't help but let a gasp escape his lips. It was coming from William's office. He had never known Senior Spears to be fond of Romantic music, but then again, there was no telling what Spears was fond of at three of clock in the morning. The door was open just wide enough to let a small ray of light shine through, emitting an ominous aura which surrounded the entrance and casted an effect similar to that of the murky waters of a bayou. Since the door was technically open, Grell went against his better judgment and entered the room, albeit with precaution.

William was sitting at his desk, glass of what Grell suspected was whiskey in hand, listening to the intricate melodies of the waltz coming from the gramophone in the corner. He appeared to be quite inebriated, his head bobbing out of tempo to the music as he poured himself another glass. Grell noticed that the golden brown liquid nearly kissed the rim of the crystal ware and that William was making a quick effort to change that. His boss took no notice of him, not even when he sat down on the armchair facing his desk.

Upon William's desk was an envelope. Will's neat penmanship was printed on the front. "William T. Spears, Resignation Letter." It said- the crisp black characters frankly terrifying Grell.

"What is this William?" he demanded, holding the envelope in his hands and fighting the urge to crumple it. Never had he been so confused and hurt as he had been at that moment and he needed an explanation. From the ghastly look on William's face, he knew he was going to get one.

"This-" William began, snatching the envelope away and placing it back onto the desk. "This is my resignation letter. In a few hours, I am going to march down to the Board of Directors and I am going to give this in."

Grell noticed his pale complexion and the tired inflection in his words. He had never seen his boss so vulnerable before. What surprised him the most was the expression that dawned upon his face after his monologue. Grell wanted to identify it as sadness, but he knew it was not. There was no sadness, nor was there frustration in those golden green eyes. Rather, there were copious amounts of self-hatred. He knew what this was about, yet he also knew it would not be wise to bring the topic up when William was not ready. Instead the red- headed Shinigami sat politely in the armchair, occasionally sipping the alcohol William had poured for him. He was not one for hard liquor, but he needed something to dilute not only his senses, but also the stifling atmosphere. Time wagged on and before he knew it, an hour had passed. Both men were still drinking, William at a surprisingly steady pace. Grell was on his third glass when William began to talk again. By this time, Grell was also quite intoxicated and tried his best to concentrate on the words that were coming from his boss's mouth.

William got up from his desk and walked towards the tall window. He staggered slightly, but managed to steady himself enough to sit on the ledge.

"When I accepted this job, being the lead director and manager of the Shinigami Dispatch Association department of London, I made myself a promise-" Will said whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. "I promised myself that I would lead the best and most successful department in the history of this association. I promised myself that the environment in my department would not only be productive and effective, but also enjoyable. Most of all, I promised myself that I would look out for my subordinates, my coworkers, and make sure they were safe and well. I have failed in all of those terms, if not more."

"Don't say that Will," Grell jutted in, "You are a great boss, although a little strict for my taste and manic about paperwork. But you are still the best boss I have ever worked for."

"Bullshit." William barked out.

"It's the truth Will," Grell said, not noticing the nickname he had called his manager. "I am extremely thankful that you are here to lead us, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we would be nothing without your constant support and guidance. What happened with Alan and Eric-"

"Don't waste your breath if you are going to console me with lies." William said in a hopeless tone. "Two of my best employees… two of my best friends… are gone. One thousands souls… wasted. Getting defeated and utterly humiliated by a demon. This is an unforgivable mess I've made."

"You couldn't have prevented Alan's death."

"Oh really Grell? You mean to tell me that I couldn't have prevented Alan from getting his head practically hacked off by the death scythe of his best friend who had some crazy notion that killing people would save his life?! I think you are wrong there Sutcliff. Alan had a terminal illness, yes, but the manner of his actual death was preventable in every way."

"And Eric," William continued angrily. "Killing all those innocent women and children, so that he could have played the part of the saviour and cure Alan in some ridiculous fairytale. I should have suspected something, but what did I do instead? I gave him the case for a crime he was guilty for!" William's voice escalated and he threw the empty crystal glass at the floor. Glass shards bounced off everything, and landed on the ground. Grell stared at the interloper, watching it glisten in the rising sun. _'They look an awful lot like tears; fresh from a suffering person's eyes,' _Grell thought, _'…perhaps they are William's.'_

"I do not deserve this position, or any Shinigami position for that matter." William concluded, hanging his head. "I have created a travesty. I have brought shame to our society."

"I've never known you to be a drama queen Will," Grell joked, but stopped short when Will aimed his death scythe at his head.

"Honestly," William grumbled, fixing his spectacles and adjusting his shirt cuffs nervously.

"Will, if you ask me, you should burn that envelope immediately and forget about this crazy resignation bull crap."

"But-"

"Do you think Eric and Alan would want you to resign?"

William didn't answer the question. Instead, he got off the ledge and bent down to pick up the remnants of the whiskey glass. When he finished, he opened the other drawer of his desk and pulled out another envelope. He handed it to Grell. Grell read the address, "To William T. Spears". He stared back in confusion.

` "It's from Alan Humphries," William said. "I found it wedged in his Shinigami Rulebook."

"Can I read it?" Grell asked, unsure if that would be very respectful or not.

Only after William granted him permission did Grell open the letter. It was rather short, but from the intricate and immaculate cursive, it was clear that Alan had put a lot of effort into those heartfelt last words.

"Dear William" [it said,]

Or should I say, Mister Spears. I suppose formality isn't as important now that I am dead; or at least I hope it isn't. I want you to know that I loved working for you at the London department more than anything else in the world. Even though I have contracted the Thorns of Death and have perished from its curse, it is no one's fault but my own. While it is my own mistake, I do not regret trying to empathize with the people I have reaped. Now I have managed to understand their pain, sorrow and mostly, their loneliness. I believe that a shortened life is a fair reimbursement for this discovery. However, I know that you and many others will not agree with my philosophy. Therefore, I regret hurting all of you in my attempt to better understand the mysteries of death. It was rather foolish I know, and I pray that you will forgive me for wreaking all this havoc and I hope you will not be too upset. In this envelope, I have included another, addressed to Eric Slingby. I trust that you will deliver it to him the moment you read these words. Please thank him for me for being the very best friend a person could ever have. Please, also find him a junior Shinigami that he can mentor and look after like he did for me. He does not look like it, but he is very caring and he gets low-spirited very easily. He does not fare well alone and he shouldn't have to. Finally, I beg that you tell Eric I loved him very much and that I still do. In fact, I always will. Thank you very much sir, for everything.

Sincerely,

Alan Humphries"

Sure enough, a smaller envelope was lodged at the bottom of the larger one. Grell pulled it out and looked at it intently. It was still sealed with a faint red glob of candle wax. It pained him to know that the designed recipient would never open it and read the words specially written for him. He thought about Alan writing these two letters, the amount of agony he must have been in caused by the thorns burrowing deeper and deeper into his muscles and vital organs, each second getting closer to his heart. He tried to imagine the expression of Eric if he were to have received the note. Then, as if possessed, he took out the custom red lighter of his and he lit the sealed envelope aflame. He watched the small flame grow stronger as it ate away the paper with the words destined to be read by no one. William paid him no heed and Grell realized he would have done the same. They did not talk until the letter became a smouldering pile of ashes upon the table.

"Damn it all." Was all he could say and William nodded in agreement.

They sat in their chairs without saying a word. Nor did they drink anymore whiskey. The sun was up and many of the Shinigami would be arriving for work in a few minutes.

"Thank you for accompanying me," William said. "…And for convincing me not to resign. I really needed that."

"It was my pleasure Will." Grell returned with a shark-toothed grin. Then he leapt up and placed another disk on the gramophone. Another one of Chopin's Waltzes, a slower one this time, filled the air. It was serene and pleasant with a hint of melancholy. Grell held out his hand. Although he was hesitant at first, William eventually got up and took it. They danced to the music until the others arrived.

_AN: I hope you liked that! Please feel free to comment, review, or correct grammatical and spelling errors if need be. Also favourite/follow if you want to! Finally, watch the Kuroshitsuji musicals if you haven't already because the second one includes two of the characters present in this story. _

_Cheers, _

_BOZ1310- June 21, 2013_


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